


Cookies & Cream

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Illustrated, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anna misses her bus stop on a stormy night, she takes refuge in a coffee shop, and discovers that there's more than caffeine to draw her back... <br/>(cookies, for instance).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies & Cream

It was dark, it was chilly, it was wet, and Anna didn’t have her rain boots. She hadn’t thought she would  _need_  her rain boots, since the bus stop was only a few houses away from her door, but this wasn’t her bus stop. She’d been absorbed in the music coming through her headphones—okay, she’d been busy emoting with her eyes closed while her stop was passed.

Oh, and she’d stepped in a deep puddle when she frantically hopped off the bus. Her canvas sneakers were soaked, her socks were soaked, her jeans were soaked all the way up to her knees. She was freezing.  _And_  she had three blocks to walk in the pouring rain to get home.

Anna stomped her feet, wiggling her numb toes. They squelched. She sighed and turned to start trudging down the street, then stopped as a row of lighted windows caught her eye. How long had there been a coffeeshop here? She should just keep walking, because the sooner she started the sooner she’d get home and into a warm bath, but…it looked lovely and warm in  _there_. If she waited a little bit, maybe the rain would stop…

The shop was empty, except for the barista behind the counter. He looked up irritably as the bell on the door tinkled. Anna realized she was getting muddy water all over the floor he’d obviously just finished mopping. The mop handle was still in his hand. She blushed.

“Yes?” he asked, voice clipped. “Can I help you?”

“Coffee with milk, please,” Anna said. “And–three cookies.” He raised an eyebrow and she blushed.

“Three?”

“Three,” she said firmly. “One of each kind.”

The coffeeshop was in an old building that had been converted, with a couple of big bay windows, carved wooden molding around the ceiling, and even a fire place. Anna sighed happily as she settled into a cosy chair beside it and held out her cold feet. The barista brought her coffee and cookies over, bending down to set them on the side table. When Anna looked up she let out an involuntary squeak. Her vision was full of a muscular bicep and broad chest, not at all concealed by the snug black t-shirt as he reached across her.

  


  **Art by[@sargar3000](http://tmblr.co/mPRj2HP4_0kq5uE4jfGygWQ)**  


Anna realized that she was staring. Had been staring, for who knew how long. She swallowed hard and pretended she had been reading the barista’s name-tag very,  _very_  slowly. “Thank you, Kris–Kristoff.” He shrugged, and Anna nearly went cross-eyed at the sight of the muscles moving under that well-fitting shirt.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“Um, I’m sorry about the floor–” Anna said, and he shrugged again.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Anna realized she was staring at his back as he turned away and she forced herself to look at the fireplace and take a sip of her coffee. It was perfect coffee, and she sighed happily, finally feeling warm. She felt even warmer when she peeked around the side of the chair and noticed Kristoff’s bicep ripple as he pushed the mop across the floor. He glanced up. Anna covered her embarrassment at being caught staring by shoving a whole cookie into her mouth.

It was a mistake. She sank down in the chair and put her hands over her face to cover her huge hamster cheeks while she tried not to choke on the mouthful of chocolate chunk peanut butter cookie. At least the cookie was absolutely delicious–she was glad she’d gotten to taste it before dying from embarrassment.

She managed to chew and swallow her cookie, and tried to casually brush the crumbs from her face and shirt. Kristoff was looking down as he mopped, but she was sure he was smirking.  _Of course he’s laughing at you, you’re acting like an_ idiot. Anna took a gulp of her coffee. And nearly choked again–it wasn’t scalding but it was definitely too hot to have a big mouthful. Being in the same room with this guy was going to kill her.

Anna decided to ignore the barista, and his biceps. And his shoulders.  _And_  his backside. She pulled out her book and settled down to read. Her jeans and shoes were starting to dry and she scooted a little closer to the fireplace, sipping her coffee and breaking off chunks of her next cookie (triple chocolate) to pop into her mouth. Small, easily-chewed, bite-sized pieces of cookie. Just in case.

Kristoff put the mop away and went back to cleaning up the bar. He considered telling the girl that the shop was closing in ten minutes, but–well, she still had a whole cookie yet, and she was just starting to look thawed. She’d looked like a half-drowned kitten when she’d walked in, and he wished he hadn’t snapped at her. Ma had already given him a talk that week about being nice to customers. He would just finish doing all the closing chores before he told her. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry to head out in the rain anyway.

Anna’s attempts to read didn’t go very well, considering the fact that she stopped on every other word to peek at Kristoff as he worked. He was methodically tidying up, she realized, and it was late.

“Miss–” he started.

“Anna,” she said automatically.

“Okay, Miss Anna. I need to close up soon–” Anna glanced out of the big bay window. Still raining, and it had gotten dark.

“Of course,” she said. “Right.”

Anna lingered awkwardly while he turned down the gas fire and cleared away the plate that had held her three cookies. She cupped her hands around her coffee cup and stared at the rain. It was coming down in buckets, and she still had to walk home. She stepped out under the awning and heard Kristoff follow her, keys jingling as he locked the door. Anna sighed, bracing herself to head into the downpour.

“Miss?”

“Anna,” she said again.

“Right,” he said. “Miss Anna.”

She laughed. “Just Anna.”

“Okay. Anna. Look–do you need a lift somewhere?” He nodded at a battered truck, the only vehicle in the row of parking spaces in front of the coffee shop. “I don’t want to be weird, but–well, it’s raining cats and dogs. If you try and walk you might actually drown.”

Anna hesitated. “Thanks, but–my parents kind of told me not to get into cars with strangers.” He nodded.

“Fair enough. My mom told me to look after people smaller than me, though–she meant the younger foster kids, but you definitely qualify.” He lifted a hand to demonstrate, moving it from above her head to the center of his chest. Anna tried to suppress a giggle and it came out as a snort.

“Thanks, really, but–” she shrugged.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” he said. He dodged through the rain to the truck and came back a minute later with his arms full. “Okay, this,” he held it up, “is a raincoat, and these are boots. You can borrow them, okay?”

Anna looked from him to the rain to the boots. They were huge boots.

“Just how big are your feet?” she asked. He shrugged. Anna put on the rain jacket. It was huge and felt like wearing a tent, but there was a drawstring around the hood that she could tighten. She was able to put her foot, shoe and all, into the boot. The raincoat was practically a tarp and she was barely able to lift her feet in the giant boots that Kristoff had given her. She felt ridiculous, and looked ridiculous, but she went stumping out into the rain anyway.

“This is great!” she called. “If I need to I can probably camp in this thing! I’ll bring it back tomorrow, thank you!”  She waved.

Kristoff wanted to follow the redhead— _just Anna—_ and make sure she made it home safely, but he decided that would be too creepy. He did watch until she was out of sight, though.

The next day Anna showed up at the coffee shop carrying a big shopping bag. It was a Friday, and a nice, clear evening, and the coffee shop was bustling. Anna looked around, amazed that this place had been only a few blocks away and she’d never known. The row of houses she lived in a few streets away was gated, mostly populated with older people who had known her parents and had probably known President Roosevelt for that matter. Some of them were sweet, but there was still something–well, chilly about the neighborhood.

This place looked warm and inviting and it was full of people around her own age, talking or reading or laughing. Conversation and music spilled out onto the sidewalk from the propped-open door. She had been expecting a handful of couples or small groups, probably a few loners hogging whole tables for their laptops. Instead, a young woman with beautiful blue hair was perched on a stool in the corner, warming up her fingers on her guitar, and people had pulled the mismatched chairs into cosy clusters.

Anna was disappointed to see a tall black guy taking orders at the crowded bar. She waited in line anyway, which meant she was standing next to the case of baked goods for a solid five minutes. When she got to the counter she said “I need to find Kristoff and also six cookies, please.”

He grinned hugely at her. “Only six?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Anna said firmly. She grinned back. “One of each except two of the chocolate ones, please. And can you tell me when Kristoff will be here? I need to give him this—” she hefted the shopping bag. “He let me borrow some things. Does he work later? Or tomorrow?”

“Oh, Kristoff is here! He’s always here.” The barista—Sven, according to his name tag—slid open the back of the glass cabinet and began filling a bag with cookies. “He’s in the kitchen.  Here–” he stepped back to stick his head through a doorway behind the counter. “Oy! Kristoff! Someone wants you!” Apparently there was a reply that Anna couldn’t hear. “How should I know why, man? If a pretty redhead wanted me I wouldn’t ask surly questions!” Sven winked at Anna and held out her cookies. “Sorry, he’s not the friendliest—” The opening door wacked him in the back as Kristoff emerged.

“Hi,” Anna said, feeling an unaccountable blush heating her face.

“Hi,” Kristoff said. “I mean—” He tugged the dark grey bandana off of his head and hastily ran a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of flour. “Hi.”

“Hel _lo_ ,” Sven said, and gave Kristoff a shove. “Watch it with the door, man, I have customers to serve here. Go fraternize somewhere else.”

“Sorry, buddy.” Kristoff took the bag that Sven had still been holding and glanced in it, then at Anna. “Yours?”

Her blush darkened, but she grinned at him. “It’s only six cookies!”

“Seven,” Sven put in, as he swirled whipped cream on top of a mug. “Pretty girls who want to talk to my best friend get extra cookies for free.” He slid the mug across the counter to the waiting customer (a bearded man who promptly got cream in his mustache and didn’t seem to mind), then Sven winked at Anna and said in a stage whisper “It’s a bribe, so that you’ll go out with him.”

  


  **Art by[@sargar3000](http://tmblr.co/mPRj2HP4_0kq5uE4jfGygWQ)**  


“Wait—” Kristoff said.

“What?” Anna’s blush was burning her cheeks. “I mean, I didn’t think—”

“I wasn't—I can't—”

“I just wanted to bring your stuff back and say thank you,” Anna said hastily, shoving the shopping bag into Kristoff’s arms.

“And I wasn’t going to ask you out—I mean, not that I wouldn’t, I just can't—I—uh…”

They stared at each other, both of their faces red. “Sorry,” Anna said, “this is awkward, it’s my fault, I’m always awkward.”

“No, you’re not, you’re gorgeous,” Kristoff blurted, and then his expression went absolutely wooden and he clamped his mouth shut.

“Thanks,” Anna said quietly.

“Here’s your cookies,” he said, and as soon as she’d taken the proffered bag of sweets he turned around and disappeared through the back door.

“Are you eating cookies for dinner?” Elsa asked suspiciously, eyeing her sister over the top of a pair of reading glasses.

“Nope,” Anna said, through a mouthful of cookie. She swallowed. “I’m eating cookies for dessert.”

“But you haven’t had dinner.”

“Life is short,” Anna said, and began counting off ‘eeny-meeny-miny-mo’ to select her next type of cookie from the row in front of her. “Life is short, so eat dessert first. I saw that on Pinterest. It’s kind of like 'eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.’  _That’s_  from Star Trek.”

“It was from the Bible first,” Elsa said absently, flipping through a bulging folder.

“You don’t get any points unless you give your pedantic answer in the form of a question.” Anna settled on a peanut butter cookie studded with white chocolate chunks and dried cranberries. “I’m going to go study at a coffee shop tomorrow,” she announced. “It’ll help me focus.”

Her sister raised an eyebrow. “You’re really going to wear real clothes on the weekend  _and_  go out of your way just for cookies?”

“Elsa, these aren’t  _just_  cookies, these are  _amazing_  cookies. I would cross oceans for these cookies. Deserts. Battlefields. I would sit in rush hour traffic for these cookies. I would take a math test for these cookies. I would—”

“Okay, okay! I believe you.”

“Elsa? You remember when I said that I hated men and I would be single forever?”

“And then you threatened to adopt fifty cats? I remember. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Ooh look, this cookie has chocolate  _and_  peanut butter chips! Is it possible to marry a cookie?”

The coffee shop had been busy on Friday night—it was  _packed_  on Saturday. This time there was a trio of guys performing in the corner, all the chairs were full, and there was no sign of Kristoff. Not that she was there to see Kristoff, of course. She was there for cookies. Cookies were better than men. But, still. Anna kept craning around, searching the room, until it was her turn to give her order to the plump, cheerful woman manning the counter.

“Coffee with cream and five sugars, please, and I’d like eight cookies—”

“Oooh you’re the girl!” the woman exclaimed, beaming. Anna blinked.

“What?”

“The girl! Kristoff’s girl! Sven told me all about you!”

“Oh,” Anna said weakly. “But, I’m not really—”

“Cliff! Pabbie! Come meet Kristoff’s girl!”

  


  **Art by[@sargar3000](http://tmblr.co/mPRj2HP4_0kq5uE4jfGygWQ)**  


The door to the back opened and heads began to poke around it. Anna found herself in a circle of smiling people, all eager to introduce themselves. They jostled and elbowed each other, clearly a family despite the fact that hardly any of them looked related. And they were sweet–overwhelming, but sweet. Anna liked it. She had been so used to her quiet townhouse on the quiet street behind those high gates, she had been so used to being  _lonely_  that she’d almost stopped noticing—besides, the last time she’d tried to cure her loneliness with a relationship it had gone so  _very badly_. Being lonely had felt kind of safe. But now she was suddenly being embraced (literally) by a whole family, by Kristoff’s family, and somehow she couldn’t bring herself to explain that she barely knew Kristoff, and he didn’t want to date her anyway.

“Where  _is_  Kristoff?” she finally asked, after forty-five minutes of meeting people and hearing funny stories about Kristoff as a little boy ('he was the hardest little worker, he would help in the garden all day, but then getting him to take a bath! We would have to chase him with the hose…’).

“Oh, he isn’t here! He never works in the front on the weekends, he hates the crowds. In fact we can never get him out of the kitchen except Tuesdays and Thursdays, those are when things are slow. He only comes in in the morning to get things ready. You should come and keep him company! I’m sure he’d like that.”

“I’m not sure he wou—”

“And that way you’d get to try some really fresh cookies! They’re so much better, believe me.”

“What time?” Anna asked.

4am. It was 4am on a Sunday, and she was loitering in an alley behind the coffeeshop, jumping up and down to keep off the chill, waiting for a guy who might not even be glad to see her. All because she hadn’t known how to tell a sweet middle-aged woman the truth. Okay, and because if those cookies were even better  _fresh_ , then she would have walked through fire to get some. She just hoped Kristoff wouldn’t be too annoyed. She yawned, shivering.

“Anna?”

The voice behind her made her jump, choking on her yawn as she turned around. “Kristoff! Hi!”

“Hi.” They stared at each other, and Anna bit her lip.

“Sorry, your mom—Bulda, I mean—she said I should come and I didn’t know how to explain and I thought well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt, I mean that maybe you wouldn’t mind too much, and I was kind of curious so I…um…”

“Yeah, she told me. I didn’t think you’d show up, though.”

“Sorry. I can go—”

“No! No, sorry, I didn’t mean—” He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head. “It’s fine. You should at least come in and have a cup of coffee, you look cold.”

“That would be  _amazing,_ ” Anna sighed, and gratefully followed him into the back of the coffee shop.

“Here, have a seat—” Kristoff pulled out a stool. “I’ll go and start the coffee.”

This part of the building had gotten a more thorough renovation than the shop part—there was still molding in places around the top of the wall, and tin tiles over part of the ceiling as little remnants of history, but every below that was modern. It was obvious that a few walls had been moved to make way for the big and absolutely spotless kitchen. The ovens were definitely new, and they gleamed. So did the three stand mixers, and the counters. The only things that weren’t utilitarian were the crayon drawings and family photos taped to the door of the big refrigerator.

“Your family is wonderful,” Anna said wistfully.

“They’re loud.” Kristoff smiled over his shoulder and he took mugs out of a cabinet. “But they’re great.”

“You’re so lucky! I always wanted a big family. It’s just me and my sister, though, and she has to work a lot, and I’m in school. We actually put 'sister hang-out time’ on the calendar or we would barely see each other. It’s nice that your family all works together.”

“Yeah…it is. Mostly, I guess.  They can be a little heavy-handed with the matchmaking, though.”

Anna winced. “Yeah, sorry about that, I just—I didn’t have the heart to tell them we weren’t a thing, you know? They seemed so excited.” The smell of coffee was filling the air, and Anna breathed it in.

“Ma thinks I spend too much time on my own.” There was a burst of noise as Kristoff steamed a tiny pitcher of milk. His movements were smooth and efficient, Anna noticed, as she watched him tap the little pitcher on the counter, swirl it gently, then slowly pour it into the coffee. “She says I’m going to go nuts and start talking to myself. Really she just wants grandchildren. Here—” He set a cup down in front of her and Anna stared.

“But I can’t drink this!”

“Sorry, I didn’t ask—I’m just used to making lattes in the morning, I can make you something else—”

“No, no! It’s great, it’s just—it’s too  _pretty_.” There was a swirling leaf of white foam on the surface of the coffee, and Anna wished she could pick it up and press it in a journal, as she sometimes did with real leaves.

Kristoff shrugged. “It’s not really my best,” he mumbled. “Really, it’s just coffee with milk, after all.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He shrugged again and leaned on the counter, a little turned away. Anna took the opportunity to look at him some more—he was in another snug black t-shirt, after all, and he definitely wasn’t interested her but it didn’t hurt to  _look_. They drank their coffee quietly, until Anna got tired of the silence (something Elsa always complained happened after thirty seconds).

“So what do you do here so early? You can’t possibly open the shop.”

“No, not until six, but I have to start the baking so that everything is ready by the time—”

Anna sat up, staring at him. “ _You_  do the baking?”

“What did you think I did?”

“I didn't…I don’t know, I just… _you_  make those cookies? Those amazing cookies?”

“Yeah, I make everything we sell.” He put his cup in the sink and began setting out big cookie sheets. “Some of the dough is in the refrigerator and I just scoop it out, but then I make new batches for the afternoon, and cupcakes for the afternoon—”

Anna could only gaze at him in wonder as he worked, and as the delicious, tantalizing smells of warm sugar and chocolate started filling the room she had to remind herself, firmly and repeatedly, that she couldn’t ask a guy she’d just met to marry her, even if it meant a lifetime supply of cookies.

Kristoff had always guarded his early mornings—the quiet, the privacy, the absence of family members banging in and out of his kitchen. He’d been annoyed when Ma told him what she’d done (’ _Ma, seriously, I don’t have time to date and she looks too young.’_ And too pretty. And way too out of his league…) but when he saw Anna shivering in the alley he could only remember how she’d looked the first time she’d walked into the coffeeshop, wet and forlorn.

He could deal with one person, maybe. She did talk a lot, but it was kind of nice. The company was kind of nice.  _She_  was nice. She chattered away and everything she had to say was positive and cheerful and sweet and…and  _nice_. Kristoff scooped out cookie dough, slid pans in and out of the oven, and listened. A few times Anna did go quiet, and when he glanced over he found her staring dreamily at the wire racks of cooling cookies and pastries.

He didn’t have the time to date anyone, he really, really didn’t. He worked every day, with weird hours, and there had to be a reason he’d never had a relationship last for more than two or three awkward dates ( _maybe the reason is that those dates weren’t with Anna_ , said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sven’s). But he’d decided that enough was enough, no more stiff conversation over bad Italian food with girls who got impatient with his lifestyle or freaked out by his hodge-podge, over-enthusiastic family.  _Except Anna’s already gotten up in the wee hours to be part of your schedule and she already loves your family and you are an idiot._ When he slipped a few fresh, still-gooey chocolate cookies onto a plate and set them in front of Anna, her beaming smile made his stomach flip over.

_Yep. I’m an idiot_.

Anna’s early morning visits didn’t stop—she came on the weekends, at 4am without fail, often bleary-eyed with mussed hair and occasionally in pajamas. Tuesdays and Thursdays she came in the evening to the coffeeshop and pretended to do homework, although she was often chatting to any members of the family that were working instead. If it was a slow day and Kristoff was on his own she would sit at the bar and talk to him. When she talked about her own life, there was something in her voice that sounded…lonely. Details filtered through eventually, and Kristoff pieced them together like a puzzle. A privileged, but isolated life. Lost parents. An estranged sister. A fiancé who had done something to hurt and humiliate her (exactly what, Kristoff didn’t like to ask, but it was something that made her flinch the few times Anna mentioned her former engagement). Reconciling with the sister, but also dealing with the fact that her sister had a million responsibilities and very little time.

No wonder she was happy to be enveloped in his family, however briefly. No wonder she was willing to get up in the early morning to befriend a grumpy nobody who didn’t know who she was and hadn’t heard rumors about her (the ex-fiancé again, apparently. Kristoff would have liked to strangle him, whoever he was).

Most of his family assumed she was dating him. He wished she  _was_  dating him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask, because it might have screwed everything up and he had realized that all he wanted from a day was to have her warm presence nearby, hear her laugh, see her smile. Eventually her life would change, and she wouldn’t have time to keep such weird hours. She’d make new friends, probably meet some guy good enough to deserve her, and she’d drift back out of his life as suddenly as she’d arrived. But in the meantime..well, the best he could do was feed her cookies and pray she didn’t decide to go on a diet.

One of these days, Anna thought, Kristoff was going to notice how much she stared at his arms. And his shoulders.  _And_  his stomach, when he pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He didn’t do that every morning, but when he did she knew it was going to be a _good day_. She also knew she must have a stupid, daydreamy expression on her face when she stared at him, because she definitely got one when she  _thought_  about him—Elsa had caught it more than once and called it 'the cookie coma’ face. Anna  _thought_  her sister suspected that it was about more than cookies and she was tactfully waiting for Anna to confide in her. But…there wasn’t anything to confide. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever, if she waited for Kristoff to do the asking. He liked her ( _or tolerated her_ ), and he’d said she was gorgeous that one time ( _but did he mean it?_ ), and Anna wanted to just bite the bullet and ask him out…but… _but_ …

But he never told her to be quiet and he drew butterflies and flowers on her coffee and he gave her all the cookies she wanted, and she didn’t want that to stop because she’d managed to make things awkward. She always made things awkward, and she didn’t want to ruin this…whatever this was.

Anna stared down into her cup. There was a heart made of creamy foam floating on it, and she wished she could believe it was a sign. She was making excuses. Sure, her last relationship had made her a little gun-shy, but it had been almost a year. If only the anxious little voice in her head would pipe down long enough for her to get up the courage to tell a guy she wanted to have dinner with him. Or just lunch. Or anything at all that included the possibility of eventually running her hands through his perpetually shaggy hair. Or touching his chest. Or—

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” Kristoff dropped what he was doing and bent over her. “What happened?”

Anna took her finger out of her mouth. “I’m okay! It was stupid, I wasn’t paying attention, and I bumped my hand against the hot cookie sheet.”

“Here, let me see—” He took her hand in both of his, gently turning it so that he could study the afflicted finger. “It doesn’t look too bad, let me just get some ice.” Kristoff wrapped a piece of ice in a towel and held it carefully against the burn. Anna thought about mentioning that she could hold it herself, but she didn’t. He was holding her hand in one of his and applying the ice with the other, and she liked how it felt to have his big, warm palm cradling her fingers. The throbbing pain from the burn was definitely worth it—if she’d known this would happen she would have burned herself on purpose. Although really it was a wonder that she’d spent so much time in a kitchen the last few months and only just now managed to hurt herself ('It’s not that you’re clumsy, sweetheart,’ her mother had once said, patiently sweeping up another broken cup. 'It’s that you’re careless. You just need to pay attention—and maybe not practice pirouettes in the kitchen.’)

“I should put a bandage on this,” Kristoff was saying, flipping open a cupboard and reaching for a first-aid box. “It might be overkill because the burn really isn’t bad, but it’ll hurt less if you bump it.” He wrapped the bandaid around Anna’s finger, and then he suddenly lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “There, all better,” he said, smiling—and then he blushed and dropped her hand, turning his face away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking, I do that all the time with my little sisters and nieces but—I mean you’re not one of—it’s not the same—”

He stopped, because Anna had leaned over and kissed his flushed cheek lightly. His brown eyes were wide as he looked up at her. She was blushing too, she could feel it, and her heart was definitely out of rhythm, but the look of bemused wonder in Kristoff’s face made her giggle. There was a rush of happy warmth in her chest as she smiled at him.

“All better,” she said. “Well, almost…”

This time when she leaned forward, he met her halfway.

  


 

**Art by[@sargar3000](http://tmblr.co/mPRj2HP4_0kq5uE4jfGygWQ)**


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